The Darkest Hour
by Calico West
Summary: Although it is not related to this particular episode, this story was born entirely on a line in "The Confederate Express". "Because of you, I'm walking on two good legs." -Jess. What happens if there is no one there to save him?
1. Chapter 1

**The Darkest Hour**

Chapter One

The thunder hadn't quit reverberating the walls when the next streak of lightning cracked the beginnings of a new roll. The only thing that could challenge the noise being produced was the torrential rain that fell from the angry clouds, pelting everything in its path with moisture laden fury. The water poured in streams down the window that Slim looked out of, and his eyes naturally rose to the sky as another zigzagging spark momentarily brightened everything around him. He stepped back when the thunder shook the window pane, turning to see Jess standing behind him, one hand on the back of his neck, the other resting on the handle of his gun, as the right often was prone to do. But even if the storm was a form of a threat, no amount of accuracy with a bullet was going to change a thing.

"Stage is late," Slim said, stating the obvious fact that everyone in the household already knew.

Jess barely gave a nod, and Mike looked up from his position from partially seated under the dining table. He wasn't hiding, at least he told himself he wasn't hiding, but it was there that Buttons hid, so Mike sat next to his canine companion, keeping a reassuring hand on the storm-frightened dog. Daisy stepped from the kitchen, her hair covered with a faded handkerchief, as it helped tame the humid frizz, an apron tied around her waist, and her hand holding a spoon that was coated with the chicken and dumplings she'd been stirring.

"I expect there'll be delays all up and down the line," she looked at Slim's concerned expression, trying to sound cheerful. "Maybe it stayed at Crown Point before venturing out in this awful thunderstorm."

"I don't know, Daisy," Slim shrugged, turning once more to the window as the snake-like tongue of lightning licked dangerously close overhead. "I'd like to hope that's the reason, but rain that heavy can turn those roads into worse conditions than snowfall."

"Frankie's been handling the team for a good number of years, Slim," Jess said, understanding Slim's worry over the delayed coach, for he shared a good portion of the worry himself. "More'n likely if the roads get bad he'll pull up somewhere."

"Yeah," Slim shook his head slowly as the thunder boomed so loudly he felt it down into his core. "But it's not just the roads I'm thinking about." He knew that even the most skilled driver could have difficulty handling a team spooked by the violence of nature. Lightning, the responding thunder and the heavy rain were three equally as frightening elements.

"Well, you can't go out and search until this squall settles down," Daisy said as she returned to the stove. "We might as well sit down and eat. Maybe then the stage will come and we can all relax this afternoon."

They sat down around the table together, the steaming meal in front of them unable to be received with the normal amount of exuberance as a normal day would have produced. They were without the normal family conversation that the dinner table boasted, as eyes lifted to the ceiling with each new crack of thunder instead. While the dinner plates became emptied, bite by bite, each ear attempted to listen beyond the stormy din for wheels turning down the muddy road, but nothing but the outdoor elements and the simple sound of forks and knives slicing, scraping and pushing food across a plate to bring to a mouth were heard.

Once his plate was completely bare, Slim stepped away from the table to look once more out the window, although he knew what the sight would hold before he reached the water dotted glass. Lightning flicked through the sky, racing violently from cloud to cloud, but there was nothing racing down the slope to the house except rivulets of muddy rainwater. He turned back to find three sets of eyes on him, but with a slight shake of his head, they returned to what was in front of them.

A short while later the food was finished, the table was cleared, the dishes were washed and put away, yet the stage still wasn't there. The waiting was now over. Even if Daisy's hope that the stage had stayed at Crown Point at the first sign of the storm was true, it was up to Slim and Jess to know for certain. There were too many other alternatives that could have happened between the two stations and watching the roadway from the ranch house's window was no longer an option.

"I'll go out and saddle us up, Slim," Jess said, only pausing briefly as he opened the kitchen door to step through. The caliber of the thunder wasn't as intense and although the rain still splattered the earth, it was no longer coming down in a torrent, but it was the sight of the mud that had made Jess' feet momentarily go still. It looked as if they'd endured a flood, and in a way they had, although not from a river overtaking its banks, but one that had poured down from the sky.

Walking to the barn, it was more as if Jess waded his boots through the mud instead of taking actual steps. It sloshed liquidly and brown, oozing up and over each foot, splattering high enough onto his legs that dots of the dark earth developed from his knees to his gun belt. Even inside of the barn hadn't escaped the wrath, for the water had seeped under the closed door, making a muddy mess nearly to the stalls where he prepared their mounts. When Jess pulled on two sets of reins to exit the barn, Slim entered with an astonished whistle at the sight that Jess had already observed, and then handed a jacket to his readied partner.

"Gonna be slow going," Jess said as he topped his mount. "Reckon we might wanna stay off the road when we can."

"Just as long as the stage stayed on the road," Slim pulled his coat collar closer to his neck. "Let's go."

They knew from the moment that they set out that their search could take them anywhere from the road that wound through Sherman property, all the way to the next relay station up the line. When the road was visible from nearby hills, where wet grasses hindered their horse's gaits far less than the muddier surfaces, they took the distance at a greater speed, keeping their eyes constantly below them on the road. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth mile out, the rain sent its last drizzle from the sky, and it was also at that time, that because of changing terrain, the horses found the slippery roadway again.

It wasn't long before the sun began to peek through the dark clouds, making everything that was wet turn into a blindingly bright shimmer. Both Slim and Jess pulled their hats lower to their eyes in an attempt to reduce the glare, but even that action didn't improve the level of their vision. It wasn't until the sun began to dim again as the clouds continued to billow in the sky that Jess' attention was diverted to a group of horses standing on a grassy knoll, dripping wet with their lines draped behind them.

"Slim, look," Jess pointed to the team with his finger and then a moment later had his mount pointed in that direction as well.

"But where's the coach?" Slim asked aloud what both men were thinking as they approached the skittish horses.

"Dunno," Jess answered, reaching out a hand to the lead horse that still showed signs of fright. "Whoa now. Easy, Fellow."

"Looks like a break right at the tongue and the connecting pole," Slim pointed down at the obvious, jagged break line.

"Kinda how it'd be when a stage wrecks and rolls," Jess said somberly. Both men could have been considered professionals when it came to knowledge of stagecoaches, whole and broken, and knowing the potential damage to driver, passengers, and the coach itself by what they saw made their pulses quicken with dread.

"Come on, Jess," Slim urged his horse back to the road. "We've got to find that stage."

They covered another mile of ground before the road began to twist in a curve before it met up with a slippery hillside. Slim and Jess had both silently expressed their suspicions that it would be at this place on the road where the stage could have met up with some trouble. Even in normal conditions if taken too swift, a stage could take a tumble at the bottom of the slope where it met with the bend. The storm that had swept through wasn't anywhere close to making the roadway near normalcy, but something closer to a nightmare. They soon found out it was true.

"There it is," Slim's voice expressed the alarm of what he was viewing when they made that final turn. The stagecoach had rolled clear off the road, lying on its side, where it had come to a stop against two solidly rooted trees. The wheels were caked in thick mud and the coach itself dripped water onto the already waterlogged ground. And there wasn't a body in sight.

"Frankie?" Jess leapt to the ground, his eyes searching ahead of where his feet moved looking for the stagecoach driver. "Frankie, can you hear me?"

"Over here, Jess," Slim had pulled up farther beyond where the coach had landed, looking in the depth of the brush behind the trees. Frankie was face down, soaked to the skin as if he'd been drowned, and it wasn't until Slim turned him over that he knew that Frankie still breathed. "Frankie?"

"That…you…Slim?" Frankie part whispered, part moaned his question.

"Right here, Frankie," Slim ran a hand down Frankie's right leg as it was noticeably distorted, wincing as he touched the obvious break of his ankle. "Jess is here, too."

"Reever," Frankie quivered the unknown name. "Pass…passen…ger."

"I'll look," Jess hopped up onto the side of the coach and pulled the door open. All he needed was one look to know the passenger's fate. Blood was vibrantly streaked down a pale face, and there was no air going in and out of the parted lips. Jess slowly shook his head, his eyes turning to find his partner's soft blue set searching his pinched features. "He's dead."

"We need to get Frankie to the doctor," Slim pulled his jacket off and tucked it underneath Frankie's head. "We can't take him on one of our horses. Jess, ride to the nearest ranch and get a team and buckboard sent this way and then ride to town for the doc."

"On my way, Slim," Jess called over his shoulder, hopping into the saddle in one swift motion.

"Take it easy, Jess," Slim looked up at his partner before he rode away. "I don't need another man down because of a slick roadway."

"You saying I'm reckless?" Jess asked before he nudged his horse in motion. He already knew the answer to that.

"Let's just say I know you pretty well," Slim kept his gaze locked with his partner's. "So just be careful, all right?"

"Will do," Jess answered with a slight nod. "Be back before you know it."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

It had taken hours before Jess' "before you know it" became a reality. Slim had spent that last hour in his wait chafing, concerned that Jess hadn't heeded his warning. A neighbor arrived with his sturdiest team and wagon and as both men settled Frankie in the back, covering him with several blankets, there still hadn't been a sign of Jess. Slim continued his wait until Frankie had well been on his way back to his small home a few miles out of Laramie. Slim had nearly reached the point where he was about to top his mount again to restart a search when a familiar horse had called out to his own. Slim wore a scowl when they met, but Jess grinned wide before relaying the message that the doctor was on his way to tend to Frankie's needs.

The first coach the following morning had brought news about Frankie's injuries, with both Slim and Jess giving slight nods as their assumptions on a broken ankle and dislocated shoulder had been fairly accurate, but Daisy stood nearby, clutching her hands tight in front of her as concern for Frankie filled her being. Frankie and the burial of the lone passenger hadn't been the only news the driver and shotgun man had brought, for the plan to haul the rolled over stagecoach was set for later in the morning, to be delivered to the Sherman Relay Station for repairs.

It was now sitting between the house and the barn, the most disheveled coach that had ever been placed before Slim and Jess to fix. The stage line supervisor, Mr. Burch, had loudly boasted to the group of men that had volunteered to upright the fallen coach that "if anyone can do it, it'll be Slim Sherman and Jess Harper." Given that added boost of confidence, they knew their hands could accomplish the job. Time was the uncertainty, and it didn't help that now and then an eye had to be cast to the sky, as dark clouds could be seen developing over the hills once more.

"How long do you think it's gonna take to get this thing back on the road?" Jess asked as he pulled on the rear right wheel. It came off in two different pieces.

"I don't know," Slim shrugged, checking to make sure the jack was still locked in place. He had set it in place himself, but now that there wasn't any more support from the wheel, he wanted to make sure the stage was securely off the ground. "The wheel's busted, but that's easily replaced, as is the tongue, but the rear axle, that's going to take some doing, and I won't know for sure until one of us gets underneath it."

"Well, the forge is fired up, so we can start reshaping whatever parts need mending."

"Yeah," Slim replied as he kicked his foot against the step, knocking a chunk of dirt onto the ground, "but the first thing is we need to wash some of the mud off. Look down there, Jess, we can't do a thing to it until some of that muck is removed. I wouldn't be surprised if there's more damage underneath that we can't yet see. Start filling buckets of water. I'll get under there and start knocking off what's already dried. The water then should take care of the rest."

"All right," Jess said with a mischievous grin, "but if you want me down there, just say so. I've wallowed in some muck a time or two in my life."

"Meaning you have some experience?" Slim asked with an eyebrow raised and a growing smile on his lips.

"You bet."

"I'll remember that," Slim said as he crawled underneath the coach. "But since you think I'm so squeaky clean, I'll show you that I can hold my own in some grime now and then, too."

"Whatever you say, Pard," Jess laughed as he handed Slim the first bucket of water. It took nearly ten more to fully wash off the mud from the coach's undercarriage. When Slim emerged, Jess renewed his laughter, as Slim appeared to have done more wallowing in the mire than the frogs in the nearby bog did every single day.

"Mercy, Slim!" Daisy exclaimed with a hand to her cheek when she exited the house to see what had set off Jess' amusement. "If you don't change out of those soiled clothes this instant, I'll never be able to scrub them clean."

"Oh, but Daisy, there's still work to be done and I…" Slim began his protest, but Daisy started to usher him into the house, any argument on his part lost before it had begun.

"Go on in, Slim," Jess' laugh switched to a broad grin, "go back to that squeaky clean image you were talking about awhile ago. The stage'll still be here when you return all polished up."

Slim trudged right into the house, dirty clothes, boots and all. Since the deluge had turned everything to a deep layer of mud that caked to everything that touched it, with all of the work that still needed doing, sometimes returning to the house several times an hour, even Daisy had given up insisting that boots be pulled off before entering. The muddy stream indoors would have to dissipate once the outdoor muck turned back to something closer to dust. By that time, Daisy would probably be ready to clean the house from top to bottom again, just in time for the two men and a boy to take off for a day of fishing.

"Feel better, Pard?" Jess asked once Slim returned to the stagecoach, wearing not only a fresh shirt but pants as well.

"Sure," Slim took the offered tool from Jess' hand. "Only next time, you get good and grubby. Daisy seems to complain less when you're the dirty one."

"That's 'cause it comes natural," Jess said with a thumb pointed at his chest.

"Uh-huh," Slim nodded and then pointed underneath the coach, "now, let's see what we've got in store for us."

Jess crawled under the stagecoach, his eyes roving from the front to the rear, not just settling on the break to the rear axle. He quickly discovered that the brake push bar that connected the brake lever at the driver's seat to the actual brake beam that slowed the rear wheels to a stop was about to become completely unattached. Jess rested his gaze there the longest. "We definitely have our hands full," Jess called up to Slim, "but we can do it."

"What do you want to tackle first?" Slim leaned down to get a better look at all that Jess pointed at.

"We'll start with the axle, and then go to the brake bar."

"All right," Slim stood back up and walked to the rear wheel that was still in place. "Crawl out of there until we get the whole backend propped up and then we can get started."

With the opposite wheel from the one that was broken removed, the stage was then fully secured, safe enough for both men to work underneath as the axle was repaired. They called out back and forth to each other, and each command and the resulting action brought them closer to the finish line on the broken axle. When Jess came up out of the dirt, he clapped his hands together as Slim released his hand from the outer edge of the rear axle, now in a complete form.

"Good work, Pard," Slim smiled as Jess nodded his returned gratitude.

"Ready for the next one?" Jess asked, downing a dipper full of water.

"Hold on, Jess. Where're you going, Daisy?" Slim asked, dropping the tool in his hand to the pail near his foot when Daisy came out of the house, dressed in her usual clothes for an outing.

"I made Frankie dinner for tonight, the poor man," Daisy set a heaped up kettle in the back of the buckboard. "Since he's determined to stay at his own place after that terrible accident, Frankie doesn't have a soul to care for him and I know he's got to be hungry. I aim to see that he has plenty to eat for the next couple of days. Now that the chicken's packed, I think I have everything together."

"Are you planning on leaving right now?" Slim asked, unable to hide the concern from his face or in his voice.

"As soon as Mike's ready," Daisy craned her head as she searched the yard for Mike, smiling when she saw the boy running free from the outhouse. "Now as soon as I fetch my purse."

"Daisy," Slim put his hand on her shoulder to pause her from taking another step toward the house. "Taking a meal to Frankie is a mighty fine thing to do, but the roads aren't anywhere near safe enough to travel yet. They've dried out some, sure, but the ruts haven't gone away and if those clouds produce like I think they're going to, it's going to get slick again real fast."

"Oh, but Slim," Daisy shook her head as she pressed a hand to her chest, "I understand, really I do, but we can't leave Frankie unfed and all alone, especially when he's hurt like he is. I promise I'll be extra careful."

A sigh came through Slim's lips as he turned and looked at Jess standing still by the stagecoach. Duty for family came above duty for business. Both Slim and Jess lived by that rule. Knowing what had to be done was passed in a single glance between the two men, solidified by a nod from each head. They knew that Daisy was determined to go, but they were just as strong-minded in not allowing her to traverse the poor conditioned road alone, even if it meant that they would have to abandon the coach's repair. Since it was Slim's hand that had brought Daisy to a pause in the first place, it was his body that rose to the driver's seat of the buckboard.

"I'll drive you and Mike over to Frankie's place," Slim said, turning slightly to take in the aroma of the bundle of food behind him. He wondered if he'd be half starved before they would even arrive.

"Thank you, Slim," Daisy stepped through the front door where she'd left her purse sitting on the chair in front of the fireplace. She returned to the buckboard wearing a smile, which only beamed brighter when Slim helped her into the seat next to him. "It'll do you good to visit with Frankie, too. I know how it bothered you to find him so badly hurt."

Slim took up the reins and then with firmness in his voice he turned his head to look directly at Jess, "don't work on the coach until I get back."

"When will that be?" Jess asked, dropping two hands to rest on his hips when Slim's response was a mere shrug. As Slim started the horses in motion and the wheels turning on the damp roadway headed west, it didn't go unnoticed by either man that Jess never agreed to Slim's command.

After consuming two cups of coffee and a large slice of cake that had surprisingly been leftover from the night before, Jess returned outside to keep his hands busy with the late afternoon's chores, but his glances never strayed too far from the partially disassembled stagecoach. He ended up standing right along its side when the final run of the day rolled to a stop and Mose climbed down out of his uncomfortable driver's seat to see the stagecoach that was the talk of Laramie.

"Got that stage only partly fixed, I see." Mose stepped up alongside Jess, surveying the damage done to the coach.

"Yeah," Jess touched the pail full of tools with the tip of his boots, making the contents clank together. He'd rather have one of them clamped in his hand, pounding away at the undersides of the stage, but he'd heard Slim's warning, so loud and clear it still played in his mind.

"I guess this coach wasn't the only one damaged in those storms we had. What with all that we got either needing repair or close to it, there just ain't enough coaches out on the roads. Ol' Burch's got hisself in quite a frazzle over it. Said to tell you and Slim that he'd pay double if you got this coach here ready to travel by tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jess let an inaudible sigh pass through his lips as he stared back at the coach. "That might be possible if Slim was here, but..."

"Oh?" Mose, ever inquisitive, spread a lopsided grin across his face as he leaned his ear closer to Jess. "Where'd he take off to?"

"Daisy cooked quite the spread for Frankie, on account of his injury, you know," Jess answered, knowing without turning his head that Mose was practically hanging off of his shoulder. "Slim wouldn't let her drive alone, so he took her and Mike on over there. Said he'd pay double, huh?"

"That's what he said," Mose pulled his head slightly farther away from Jess so he could look him more in the eye. "What'd she fix?"

"Chicken, mashed potatoes, fresh bread, the works," Jess broke into a grin by the way Mose's eyes widened and his tongue found the corner of his mouth. "And before you go and ask, no, she took every scrap of food over to Frankie's."

"Darn fool gets all the luck."

"I wouldn't call having a busted ankle and a dislocated shoulder any kinda luck," Jess said, although considering the severity of the accident, and the death of a passenger, he knew that Frankie was fortunate he survived at all.

"Yeah," Mose nodded his head up and down as he spoke, walking next to Jess to lend a hand in changing the teams, "but who's getting all the pampering?"

"I see what you mean, Mose," Jess answered, his hands working on the team, but his mind still on the coach that needed fixing. "Dad-gum, getting paid double sure woulda been nice."

"I wish I could help you, Jess," Mose brushed his hands together when the switch was complete. "But I gotta get this here coach on into Cheyenne before Burch discovers I'm doing more talking than driving. Wouldn't do for me to be getting there late. And I heard tell that there's supposed to be another gully washer coming this way."

"That's what we were figuring, too," Jess looked up at the hills, the billowing clouds above were still darkening. "Dad-gum, why does it always rain when we don't want it to and then stay too doggoned dry every other time?"

"My Pappy always said weather's got a mean streak," Mose talked over his shoulder as he climbed up into the driver's seat and picked up the reins to complete the Cheyenne run. "Well, take it easy, see you the next time 'round."

Jess lifted an arm, the parting gesture given without much thought as his focus was now fully on the broken stagecoach. Burch willing to pay double wouldn't leave his mind. As all ranches experienced difficulties when it came to paying bills at times, and the Sherman ranch being in one of those seasons now, the extra money sounded too good to pass up. But he was there alone. Slim had specifically said not to work on the stage by himself, and what with the way Daisy not only had a fine hand in cooking, but also in nursing, likely she wouldn't be ready to leave Frankie's until she was certain he was comfortable, which could be pushing dark. Too late for double pay.

Jess put one knee on the soft ground and examined the damage to the brake bar. He'd fixed stagecoaches before. There were times when only one set of hands was necessary. Even though he'd only been putting broken pieces of a stagecoach back together since he'd first been hired by Slim, his skill at the job was as top notch as someone who'd been working the same job their entire life. Jess had already been underneath the coach to know what needed to be done and although he was alone, the task ahead didn't seem too daunting. He rubbed his hand across his jaw, the debate going on inside of his head being fueled by his own stubbornness and the last command that had come through Slim's lips as he drove the buckboard away. Since the one Jess argued with wasn't there to expound on the reasons why he shouldn't, the reasons why he should came out on top. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time he didn't heed his partner's warning. A few minutes later, Jess was on his back, looking up to the undersides of the stagecoach.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

An hour into his task at being the lone repairman, Jess crawled out from underneath the stagecoach. Everything was ready for the brake bar to come completely together, all he needed was every part and tool to be within reach, and to check the jack that held up the rear end of the coach one more time. Feeling confident that he was thoroughly equipped in knowledge, strength and all the right gears, Jess rubbed his hands together, ready to accomplish the seemingly unending task. Jess gave a look to the road checking for Slim and Daisy's return, just in case he was about to get a thorough scolding for not taking his partner's advice, and after seeing nothing, he returned his back to the ground.

It wasn't long before the sun became just a dim reminder that it was daylight as the cloud deck lowered. Jess was aware of the sudden change, but the different feel of the air around him didn't alter his plans, as he was determined to get the coach finished. His hands kept moving, with a hammer pounding, a wrench turning, and all along his eyes gauging the entire process. Just as the sheets of rain reached the ranch, Jess knew he was getting closer, and his determination intensified. For several minutes, the rain poured from the sky, but even then it was no time to quit, for from Jess' position, his body remained dry. But nothing around him, or below him, would say the same.

There was no lightning breaking through the clouds, but the rain flowing from above came at a similar rate as if there had been the dangerous sparks flashing through the sky. The ground hadn't yet recovered from the most recent deluge, so within minutes of the fresh droplets seeping into the earth, it returned to its sodden mass. Puddles began to form, the accumulation of water spreading out until it looked more like the new raindrops landed on a pond instead of the familiar ground between the house and the barn. With every minute that passed, it seeped closer and closer to the stagecoach. Once it reached what supported the entire rear of the stagecoach, the ground was only moments away from dissolving underneath it.

The sound of danger brought Jess' hands still as his eyes quickly darted to the jack to his right. Although firmly locked when he began, it was now slipping in the mud. At that moment, Slim's warning rang through his ears, but it was too late to act upon it. It was too late to do anything but watch the slow-motion horror story develop right in front of his eyes, and fall right on top of Jess' body. The strength of water could overpower much, including a busted up stage. With the unrelenting splattering from the sky, the stagecoach could be held up no longer. With a loud snap, the jack was amongst the oozing mud and the belly of the stagecoach that once was his protected ceiling crashed down upon Jess. His guttural cry broke through the sound of the pounding rain as the brake beam separated from the push bar and drove into Jess' leg.

Pinned tight to the ground, Jess could barely move, but where it meant the most, at the penetration into his leg, he couldn't move at all. Jess shifted his eyes to every part of the undercarriage that he could see, the groan in his chest given equally from pain and knowledge that there was no way out. The coach was severely tilted, as the rear end rested partly in the mud, and barely held up by a stump of wood and a metal bucket of tools that was slowly bending under the pressure of the stagecoach's weight. The only thing separating his body from the remainder of the crushing load above him was a mere three inches of air, that could at any moment diminish to nothingness if the stage buckled into the earth any further.

The sounds of agony escaped through Jess' partly open mouth, coming out in desperate groans and breathless wheezes. The pain felt as if his leg was being severed, that at any moment, what little of his knee on down to his foot would no longer be attached to his body. Jess wanted to fall into darkness, but the pain had him seized in his reality. He'd been in less dire situations before and found his way to unconsciousness, why didn't the abyss of nothingness rescue him now? Jess longed for his body to obey, to respond to his desperate plea for an escape, but his constant suffering remained. He couldn't move, couldn't fight, and because of the hindrance, if help didn't come soon, he knew he couldn't win. Maybe not even then.

Jess gritted his teeth tight together, trying to stop the waves of pain from expelling through his lips, but even then the sounds, from his chest, through his throat, and squeezing through his clamped jaw, still emitted in haggard cries. He tried to not look at his leg, tried not to touch it, but as it was the source of his agony, Jess' hand crept down his left thigh until it found the tear that wasn't just pierced, but jaggedly cut around the front of his leg. His blood was flowing onto the ground, mixing with the muddy water until it created a pool of dark and ominous coloring that began to seep into his clothing everywhere it touched. It was strange, at that moment, to remember their earlier conversation about Jess wallowing in the muck. No smile could form this time at the returned thought, but just another moan tightened the features on his face.

Rain continued to fall, not only softening the ground all around the stage anymore, but underneath it as well. Jess was too lost in his torture to notice that he was slowly sinking in the mud, and although if he would have realized that as a fact it might have panicked him, but in reality, it was helping him. The stage was slowly continuing to fall, and if Jess had been laying on a solid surface, his leg wouldn't have been the only body part that was crushed, but his whole life would have been gone.

Snatches of distant words suddenly met Jess' ears that had been so full of the throbbing of his heart that he hadn't been able to hear much else, but the louder they became, he knew what he was hearing. Slim and Daisy were coming home. If only he knew if they'd arrived on time, but since there wasn't any knowledge of how much time had passed since he first cried out in pain, Jess couldn't even begin to process how much blood he might have lost. And then before Slim's real words actually found meaning inside of his head, he heard the warning one more time, even if it was too late to matter.

"Sorry you both got so wet," Slim said as the buckboard came around the house. "But the rain just doesn't want to relent. I don't think it'll ever dry…"

"Slim?" Daisy questioned, looking in every direction to what might have caused the sudden alarm that instantly began to emanate from Slim's body next to her. "What's wrong?"

"The stagecoach, Daisy, it's tilted, almost completely to the ground," Slim slowly stood, angling his head to see the reason why it had collapsed. Was it just the rain, the mud, or was there something underneath? His heart suddenly felt as if it no longer was in his chest but then it crashed back inside of him with rapid fire beating. "Jess!"

Daisy then saw the dark, wet hair in the mud and she nearly fainted, but her feet carried her out of the wagon nearly as fast as Slim's took him. "Jess! No! Oh, no! No!" Daisy's anxious cry filled Jess' being, enabling him to emit a haggard groan, the sound loud enough to reach out from under the coach to Daisy's ears. "He's still alive! Oh, Jess!"

"Jess," Slim went to both knees, peering underneath the stage, unable to prevent his face from cringing at the sight of the brake beam piercing into Jess' leg. What was before him could have been described as one of the most grueling injuries he'd ever seen. And it was on his partner.

"I…I reckon I… shoulda take… took your advice … Pard," Jess' words were broken up by painful gasps and desperate attempts to draw in shallow breaths. He could barely see Slim's face, but he knew by the tightly drawn brows that worry filled his being. There was nothing Jess could do to change the expression, for he was well aware himself the horrible image underneath the stagecoach that he created. "You… always se…seem to be… right."

"Hang on, Pard, we'll get you out of there," Slim promised, his mind racing as to how he would fulfill it. Quickly.

"Talk to me, Jess," Daisy pleaded with her hands tight to her middle. She'd been able to see his ashen face, but she'd also seen the puddle of blood. Way too much of it. "Tell me where it hurts."

"My leg," Jess groaned his reply. "The b…bar… it's dig...digging deep in…to my flesh."

"Oh, Jess," Daisy felt like bursting into tears, but her training during traumatic situations prevented the sobs from coming.

"There's no… no pain lower… than my knee," Jess pressed his hand tightly to the bloody mass on his leg. "But dad-gum, where it hurts… is so bad, I… ah… oh, dad-gum!"

"Try not to move, Jess," Daisy called out her instruction. She wanted to be underneath the coach with him, but not only was Slim holding her back, but the coach itself wouldn't permit another body to fit underneath it. "Oh, Slim, what're we going to do?"

"We've somehow got to raise the rear of the coach," Slim put his hands on the rear axle that was only four or five inches away from the sodden earth, grateful that they had already repaired the vital part of the coach or it too could have already collapsed. But even then, Slim could tell the coach was still moving, and he knew if it dropped just that small distance more, he'd never get it back off the ground. And never get Jess out from underneath. "Mike, go into the barn and get a solid block of wood. We've got to get the jack braced on something other than the soft ground."

"What're you… planning t-to do, Pard?" Jess asked, his voice even weaker and more wobbly than before.

"If I can get the jack locked back underneath, and support the left side, I should be able to raise this side up," Slim touched the part of the coach that he was going to make the attempt to show Jess from underneath his plan. He didn't want to say what might happen if it wasn't going to work. "Do you think you will be able to roll out of there if I can get it up? It'll take all my strength to keep the coach held up in place."

"I… I dunno, ahhh," Jess couldn't contain the pain from his throat as he tried to raise his upper portion. He couldn't move at all.

"I'll pull him out," Daisy ignored Slim's hand that tried to hold her back and she dropped to her knees, the stain that seeped into her nicest visiting dress the furthest thing from her mind.

"Daisy," Slim started, knowing that she was the only one that could, yet worried what might still happen. "If I can't hold it, and it drops, then…"

"We won't think anything of the kind," Daisy said, already reaching her hands out to Jess' shoulders. "Raise it, and I'll pull."

"All right." Slim conceded and then gave a nod in Mike's direction, who looked as if he was just as willing to risk his own life to help save Jess as Daisy was. "You can help me lift, Mike. Just stay to my right side at all times."

"Slim…" Jess' voice was now a whisper.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry… that… I did… didn't listen t…to you."

"You'll be sorrier once I get you out," Slim said, making his voice playful in an attempt to produce a chuckle from his partner's broken body as he rapidly worked. "There're always twice the chores waiting for disobedient ranchers."

"Uh-huh," Jess found the grin Slim was trying to create. "We'll s…see about who's the s…sorry one."

"All right, Jess, Daisy," Slim said, finally securing the jack back in place. He had it locked, although he was uncertain as to how firmly it was set, but he was ready, now it was just the matter of getting Jess out of there. "I'm going to lift."

The groan in Slim's chest as he used every ounce of his strength nearly matched the agonizing moan that emitted through Jess' mouth as the brake bar began to move. Daisy could no longer stop the tears from blurring her vision at the cry of pain that tore from Jess' being. It was almost as if the same pain somehow ripped through her own body as she went down flat, locking her arms around Jess' rigid shoulders. The higher that Slim's willpower raised, the more blood pumped through the gaping hole in Jess' leg, and the weaker Jess became.

"Hurry, Slim," Daisy said as she saw Jess' head begin to bob.

"I can't get it any higher," Slim ground the words through his clenched jaw as sweat poured down his cheeks.

"Just a little more," Daisy's urgent voice from underneath him gave Slim an extra burst of strength. With a mighty "oomph" coming from his chest, Daisy felt Jess become released, and just as his body went limp, she pulled him free from the belly of the stagecoach. "I've got him!"

The breath rushed through Slim's mouth as the muscles in his back and arms could withstand the pressure no longer. The stage was released from his hands, and as the jack could no longer sustain the weight alone, the parts landed into the mud below with a sickening thump. But it was piercing flesh no longer. Slim barely wiped his brow as he raced to Daisy's side as she cradled Jess' unconscious form in her arms.

"Let him go, Daisy," Slim said softly.

"What!" The look of shock that Daisy suddenly gave him made Slim feel like he'd had his face slapped.

"I didn't mean it like that," Slim put his arm underneath Jess' shoulder and pulled, trying to release Daisy's tight hold. "I can't carry him to bed with your grip that tight."

"Oh," Daisy put a bloody hand to her forehead. She hadn't even realized that it had become coated in Jess' blood until she felt the warmth mix with the rain on her face. "I'm sorry, Slim. I was afraid you meant…"

"I know," Slim nodded, not adding the disturbing "it still could," that pounded in his head. Slim picked Jess' seemingly weightless body up in his arms, wincing as the leg dangled and flopped like it didn't belong on a body anymore and laid him in bed. The white linens turned red almost immediately.

Daisy was in instant doctor mode, ripping clean bedding for bandages as fast as her hands could perform the task. She hovered over Jess, checking his pulse, his breathing, and his temperature, but what needed the most attention was nothing that she could do. She wrapped the wound, letting the pressure of the bandages stem the flow of blood, but she knew that no matter how many cloths that touched his leg wouldn't completely stop his pulse from pumping the blood from the deep gouge that was there. Nothing could. Except… Daisy shook her head hard, commanding her hands to continue to fulfill their needed duties, but nothing could quite shake the fear that had already set in place.

Daisy heard the steady boot falls hitting the floorboards in the direction of the front door, knowing where Slim's destination would take him. She didn't want to be grim, didn't want to say the truth, but it was in her every shaken word as she called out before Slim's body exited through the front door. "Slim, get the doctor out here as fast as you possibly can. Every second counts."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The house was quiet. Too quiet. Daisy was in the bedroom that Slim and Jess shared, sometimes sitting, sometimes standing, if not still, she walked the length of the room back and forth. At frequent intervals, she dipped the cloth that was draped over Jess' forehead in the cool bowl of water by the bunk where he laid, squeezing the excess from the white fabric before replacing it back on Jess' head. He wasn't fevered, as the quivering that his body produced might have dictated, but it was the reaction to shock that made him tremble, and keeping the cloth in place was a form of comfort, like the constant touch of a gentle hand on a tormented brow.

Daisy didn't know how many times she looked to the window for a sign of the doctor. She knew how long it could possibly take, but each moment spent alone with Jess' unconscious, yet battered form, was like an eternity of time. Mike was in the barn, doing the chores that normally Slim and Jess would be doing. He'd gone willingly, without even being asked when Slim had left for the doctor. Mike had been by either Slim or Jess' sides enough times to be able to perform each duty. She knew that he could easily walk step by step through each chore without falter, just as if it were Slim or Jess' legs in action. Jess' legs.

"Dear God," Daisy barely breathed the unfinished prayer as she clutched her hands to her chest, the chill racing through her so rapidly that her body couldn't properly react to fear's icy jolt.

Working side by side with doctors in the war, sometimes performing duties that a physician normally would have done, made her far more aware than she wanted to be of the extent of Jess' injury. She hadn't needed to examine it more than once to recognize the danger. She'd seen severed limbs, crushed limbs, shattered bones, bullet damaged limbs, and knew when the only outcome was to amputate. Jess's leg was broken, the bone visible to see as the flesh had been so badly torn that it was like a gaping hole was where his skin and solidly formed muscles should have been. But that wasn't the only threat. There were tissues, arteries, and blood vessels in his leg, all which could have been destroyed. What frightened Daisy the most, was every time she touched the skin below Jess' knee, it was dangerously cold.

Daisy's pacing brought her to the front door, her hand automatically reaching for the lace curtain to look once more up the muddy hill for a sign of the doctor. It was getting dark, as the rainclouds were quickening the normal hour of dusk, but she could still see that the pathway that would bring the return of Slim and the doctor remained empty. Letting the curtain drop, she turned abruptly and leaned her back against the closed door, her hand coming up to her mouth as she surveyed the floor beneath her. The trail of blood from the front door into the bedroom hadn't been touched, and suddenly the angry red droplets could no longer be tolerated.

Daisy filled a basin with soapy water and went to her knees, and as she scrubbed, she cried. For in her sight wasn't just the blood that she washed away, but she saw a man, running, riding, roping, all on the use of two sound legs. Just as she was eliminating that stain from the floor, the images could become eliminated as well. Forever. Even those scenes of the whole man, his thin, yet muscular frame that perfectly shaped Jess' body could be gone. Memories stay permanently etched in the mind, but when drastically altered by a harsh reality, those types of memories could turn into painful ones. Daisy finished the floor, using multiple cloths to wipe up the residue, as not only was the blood removed, but the ever present tracks of mud that had become commonplace since the rain had started falling was now gone.

"Daisy," Jess' deep, yet cracking voice drew her into the bedroom and immediately by his side.

Daisy picked up Jess' hand and pressed it to her cheek, afraid that he'd feel the moisture of her tears that once more wouldn't stop flowing past her lashes. Hearing his call had not only brought a quick response to her feet, but an instant return to the pooling in her eyelids. She wanted to be strong for him, knowing what could come, but seeing his ashen cheeks, hearing his raspy voice, and seeing his blue eyes filled with pain threatened to unravel the rest of her firm resolve. Daisy bit the inside of her lip, drawing the corners of her mouth into a smile as she took her other hand and drew her fingers gently down his jaw line.

"There, now, Jess," Daisy said soothingly, grateful that her voice didn't betray her deep fear. "Be still and rest. I'm right here."

"It hurts," Jess gasped between his duo of words. His mouth remained partly open, showing his tightly clenched teeth that moved slightly together as he attempted to bite back the waves of pain.

"I know, Dear," Daisy traced her fingers across his cheek, brushing away the drops of sweat that repeatedly formed. "It's going to hurt.

"How bad?" Jess found it difficult to even raise his lashes back open when they dropped for a blink, but he had to watch the expression on Daisy's face. He had to know. Her hesitation made the eyelids come all the way up and when something best defined as fear stabbed his chest, he almost brought his head off of the pillow. "I wanna know."

"Jess," Daisy took both of his hands into her own, her fingers gently rubbing his knuckles back and forth. For a moment, she felt like she was back in the hospital during the war, telling grave news to a brutally wounded man. Sometimes, she had to tell them they weren't going to make it. Other times she had to relay the news that their comrades were gone. Other times, it was just like this, that the life wouldn't end, but the recovery would never be complete. But none of that previous experience could truly prepare her for what was happening in front of her. Jess wasn't just a stranger, lying in a makeshift hospital bed that she was taking care of. Jess was a man that she loved like her very own son. Her professionalism as a nurse couldn't be the one to do the talking, but she herself, Daisy Cooper, caregiver, friend, and yes, mother, was who she needed to be. "It's bad Jess, I'm sure you know that. The leg is broken. Badly. And I…" She couldn't help it. The pause brought a closure to her eyes and she felt the grip on her hands tighten.

"Daisy?" The prodding was gentle, yet firm, for it was backed by fear. He trusted Daisy, but he also knew what his leg felt like, fire and ice. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"Jess," Daisy opened her eyes once more and looked lovingly into the blue eyes that sought every inch of her face. She knew he needed more than a pale, worried expression, so she grew a soft smile that only a mother in such a dire situation could form, one that would bring comfort to her weary child. "You've lost a lot of blood. I'm afraid that there's damage to more than just the bone, and to the extent of the severity, I can only guess."

"I'm gonna lose my leg," the whispered declaration was as loud and definite as if it had been the booming thunder overhead all over again. Just like during the raging storm that had begun their nightmare, Daisy couldn't help but shudder.

"I cannot speak for the doctor," Daisy answered gently, but the truth was knocking so loudly in the beating of her heart, she thought Jess might be able to hear its solid hammering. It was true that she couldn't give the prognosis that a doctor would utter, but didn't she already know? Dear God, didn't she already know? "I'm sorry that I can't tell you more."

"I can," Jess closed his eyes, the quivering of his lips indicating that the closure might have come to ward off unwanted moisture. "I know."

"Know what, Dear?" Daisy softly touched the lock of hair that kept curling over his forehead.

"That I'm gonna be crippled," Jess' answer was an eerie mixture of the suffering that he currently endured, and the fearful bitterness of the pain his future could hold.

"Try to not think the worst is going to happen," Daisy tried to sound encouraging, but in her own heart, she'd already gone the worst-case-scenario route herself, from the moment she saw Jess' leg pierced underneath the stagecoach. She'd never thought she'd ever feel these emotions again, but there they were. Daisy felt her heart get torn from her chest, just as it had the day her son died. She would have given anything to spare her son the agony that he'd felt moments before he lost his life in the war, and she would give it again. But nothing in her being could take away what Jess was feeling. She wanted to shield him, wanted to protect him, wanted to defend him, but all she could do was offer him hope. "The doctor will be here soon, anyhow, and he'll do all that he can."

"Don't let him do it, Daisy," Jess begged, his fingers moving so intently over Daisy's clasped hands that she felt them tremble. "Don't let him take my leg."

"Jess," Daisy thought her voice cracked, but it was only an icy breath drawn into her lungs, "Jess, listen to me. You are a strong man. We don't really know what's going to happen to your leg until the doctor looks at it, but no matter what, you can overcome anything. Even this."

"No, no," Jess shook his head violently against the pillow. "If I ain't gonna be whole, then I ain't gonna be at all. Daisy, please, please, don't let it happen. Please."

Daisy put her hand on Jess' forehead to still him from the frantic movement, murmuring quietly to him even after the shaking stopped. Even though his eyes conveyed the fear and pain that overwhelmed him, Daisy knew what lived inside of Jess' core. He was strong. Both physically, where his muscles throughout his body were on display with every motion that he made, and mentally, where his mind was constantly alert and working on not only what was before him, but held a close reminder of his past and into the future. Surely that strength could never be removed from his body, even if a limb was.

Jess watched the expressions shift on Daisy's face, as the tears that streaked down her cheeks didn't only display sorrow. There was fear, as he expected shone from his eyes as well, and pain that came from a reflection of his own. But what was running deeper through her veins? Jess wanted to pull her in an embrace and shoulder her own painful emotion, but it took every effort to draw a shallow breath in, so he knew he couldn't rise up to her level. He was suffocating in pain, yet he couldn't even reach out a hand to comfort her, because she looked like she had just suffered a loss. That was it; her eyes didn't glisten with just fearful tears, but immense grief. But he wasn't gone. He was still alive. Unless.

"Daisy? Am I gonna die?" There was so much fearfulness in that question that it felt as if a draft of cold air had just seeped into the room.

Daisy thought someone had struck her, but it was only another stout blow to her heart. She had to take a breath before answering him, and instead of it coming into her lungs in a steady stream, it was taken rather shakily. "No, Jess, as long as you fight for it, you'll live."

"Daisy, I…" Jess' voice was nearly frantic.

"Lay your head back down," Daisy eased her hand underneath Jess' neck as he lowered his head back onto the pillow. "Close your eyes, Dear, and breathe slow and steady. There, now. Rest."

"Daisy…" it was quieter, calmer.

"Shhh," her fingers ran down the side of his cheek, coming up away from his lips as they slowly parted, his less labored breathing a sign that he'd found painless darkness once more.

She sat next to him for untold minutes, never removing her eyes from his frame. In between short prayers, she counted his breaths, squeezed his hand, wiped his brow, everything that a nurse would do, but more. For everything that her hands performed were not only the result of medical training, but were accomplished because she loved him. And even though his body was where feelings couldn't be felt on the surface anymore, through a connected presence, she gave him her love, which knew no boundaries of unconsciousness, fear or pain, and it beaconed in his heart.

It was the noise outside that drove her to her feet, pulling away from Jess' side and taking her all the way to the front door in flurried steps, but she came to an abrupt halt when the door swung open. "Slim!" Daisy exclaimed, knowing by the expression on Slim's face that he'd come back without the doctor.

Now, it wasn't just the possibility of losing a leg, but losing the entire life.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"There was a hold-up in town at the store today," Slim's voice was quiet and deadpanned. "Ezra Watkins took a bullet in his arm, and when the two men tried getting away, Mort was able to down them. Neither died. Doc Sweeney was operating on one of them when I rode in."

"Oh, no," Daisy's hands were pressed tightly to her cheeks. "Surely you told the doctor how badly Jess needs him!"

"Yes," Slim sighed, lowering himself onto the closest chair. "But what was he going to do? He had his hands full, needing to take out the man's, oh, I don't remember what he said," Slim motioned on his body to where the doctor had pointed, "something in here."

"His spleen?"

"Yeah, that was it," Slim ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Doc said he'd be out as soon as he could. If only we'd known, then we could've taken Jess directly into Laramie when it happened."

"No," Daisy slowly shook her head. "Bouncing around in the back of a buckboard on the muddy roads would have only progressed his bleeding and pain. He most likely wouldn't have made it even half way."

"How bad is he, Daisy?" Slim asked, hearing Daisy's quick increase of breath as soon as he finished the question. He looked at her and saw something he'd never seen in her before, but how to define it, Slim wasn't sure he would be able to, or would have even wanted to.

Daisy's quick intake of breath was held as she focused her gaze on Slim's worried face. Just a short while earlier, she had been asked the same question, only then it had been by Jess. She believed in honesty, and although she had tried to avoid the most horrific detail from the wounded man, Jess still somehow knew. Perhaps it was because what was happening was going on in his own body, or because Jess understood Daisy's tender, professional touch and the gaze that went with it, but he knew. She couldn't hold the truth back from Slim, either. Not when he was just as devoted to her as Jess was. They both were like her sons. She couldn't lie to either of them.

"Slim," Daisy stepped close to Slim's side and put her hand on his shoulder and her small, yet skilled fingers were given a squeeze. "Jess has endured a lot of injuries in his life, you know that just as well as I, but this time I'm afraid. The leg is badly broken, as I'm sure you were aware, but it's the damage to the surrounding tissue, the muscle, and the tremendous blood loss that is the greatest concern."

"Greatest concern of what?" Slim asked, the fear crawling up his backbone at the way Daisy was slowly bringing forward the news, as if preparing him for the worst. The worst would be to lose Jess, and dear Lord, surely, surely that's not what Daisy was going to tell him.

"I saw a lot in the hospitals that I worked in during the war, some very severe things that never fully leaves the mind. So many brave, young men that were brought in had terrible, beyond imaginable wounds. Doctor's had to make instant decisions sometimes to save a man's life, even if it was drastic. You were wounded, Slim, you saw some of the conditions the doctor's operated in. I realize that this isn't the same, but I saw wounds less severe than what Jess has, where the doctor had no choice but to amputate."

"Amputate?" The look of horror on Slim's face matched the feeling that had been building inside of Daisy since she first laid eyes on Jess' wound. "Jess is going to lose his leg?"

"I don't know, for sure," Daisy looked toward the dark window, wishing that the doctor were just on the other side of it. "Time is of the essence in cases like this, and every minute of delay…" she paused as a tear slipped down her cheek, "…could mean a greater risk of losing his life."

"No," Slim abruptly stood, his long legs taking him to the bedroom where Jess' pale, expressionless face, made whiter by the lamp perched next to the bunk, rested on a pillow, unaware that anyone else was in the room. Jess looked worse than broken, depressingly fragile, and Slim felt the catch in his throat as Daisy's words about the wounded in the war brought back images he'd long forgotten. Slim had been placed next to a man, a boy rather, in a makeshift hospital, with curly dark hair, similarly tousled on the pillow as Jess' now was, and Slim had watched him die before a doctor could tend to his wounds. The lifeless expression on the boy's face in Slim's mind now eerily matched what he currently viewed. The unnamed soldier had affected him deeply, but now this man was his best friend, his partner, and even more so, his brother. This loss would cut so much deeper. His voice dropped to a barely audible whisper meant for only one person to hear. "Don't die on me, Jess. I won't let you die."

But as Slim's eyes trailed from Jess' unmoving lashes to the menacing color seeping through the bandages, his death was no longer the only thing that feared him. Slim meant his words to his partner, but if not death being his fate, then what was the alternative? Daisy had delivered them gently, but her words hit him like a knife, not just in his heart, but in his own leg, in the exact same place where Jess had been pierced. That ugly penetration, if not going so far as taking his life, could still take a large part of him. His whole leg could be gone. Not just in the physical attribute that its removal would bring, but if it happened, how much would that change his partner? Beyond recognition?

"Why Jess?" Slim groaned, as close to coming to tears as he'd felt in a long time. Probably as far back as when he'd buried his Ma. "Why did this have to happen? I shouldn't have left him. I knew he would never obey my warning, he's too blamed stubborn. Dear God, why? Why his leg? Why Jess?"

"I can't answer your questions, Slim," Daisy walked into the bedroom alongside of Slim, and saw that despite Slim's anguished words spoken above his feet, Jess didn't stir. She wrapped her arm around his waist and gave him a motherly squeeze. "I suppose that's something that no man has an answer to. But I do know this, no matter what happens, you're going to stand strong alongside your partner."

"Always," Slim swallowed the thickness that threatened to overpower his reply. But looking down at Jess' colorless cheeks, the tight feeling in his throat only intensified, until no amount of swallowing could dispel it. He would keep to his word and stand by his partner, even if his own two legs would have to work for Jess' lost one.

Daisy patted Slim's side and brought a small smile to her lips and then turned her head to a scraping noise outside the front door as mud was being removed from a small set of boots. "Sounds like Mike's coming in."

"I took care of your horse, Slim," Mike said after he poked his head through the front door. "And someone's coming up the road. It's too dark to see who it is, though."

"The doctor," Slim hurried past Daisy and went through the front door, straining his vision in the damp darkness to see if it was the needed physician. Once he made the correct identification, however, a sigh of relief couldn't pass through his lips. Doctor Sweeney had arrived, but now it was only a matter of moments before Daisy's fears and expertise could become their grim reality.

"Doctor Sweeney," Daisy had her hand on the physician's arm as soon as he entered through the door. "I'm so grateful that you've arrived. Come quickly." And then she released the doctor's arm as he entered the bedroom, putting both hands up to stop Slim from swiftly following. "For now, Slim, please stay out here. I'll let you know."

When the door closed in front of him, it almost felt as if the outcome had already been declared. Even though he knew that it hadn't, it was as if the life on the other side was already gone. Unable to hear or even understand the medical discussion going on at his partner's bedside, Slim stepped backward, nearly running into Mike as he did so. Slim turned, and with a guiding hand, led Mike to the couch near the fireplace. It was getting cold, as in their dire situation, keeping wood onto a flame had been neglected, so Slim took a few minutes to restore the room's source of heat. When his attention was back on the child in the room, Slim noticed that Mike looked as pitiful as he felt. Sitting down next to him on the couch, Slim wrapped a strong arm around Mike's side and pulled him into his lap. Neither spoke, but they both were held as each arm wound around both bodies in a tight embrace. And in the core of those two joined hearts, was a constant prayer.

Time couldn't be felt except for what might have been set at a standstill, but the hands on the clock did slowly move forward, and suddenly both Slim and Mike's bodies were jolted to a standing position when the knob on the bedroom door was turned and then pushed open. Whenever a doctor begins his dialogue with a sigh, it's never a good thing. As soon as the noisy breath was released, something inside of Slim's chest gave a heavy thump, and then he felt as if his throat was so tight, he wouldn't have been able to holler if he'd been jabbed in the backside with one of Daisy's knitting needles. Since Daisy stood directly behind the doctor, there couldn't be an expression of dread or hope relayed to Slim, so all that he had was what the doctor would deliver. Good or bad. Or even worse.

"I wish I had a definitive answer," Doctor Sweeney said, again sighing, making that feeling in Slim's chest thud once more. "One way or the other, I'm going to have to operate. It's most important that I get the bleeding stopped. I, uh, don't want to be negative, but," Doctor Sweeney lost contact with Slim's eyes, as he couldn't look at the injured man's best friend and see the fear turn to grief, "I don't have much hope."

"Whatever you have to do, Doc, to save his life," Slim's voice held the tears that smarted in the back of his eyes, but it also held a definite determination, and that tone rang loudest of them all.

"Even if I have to take his leg?"

"Yes."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Waiting. It had to be one of the most difficult tasks to endure. There were times when a prolonged wait produced a great internal irritation, complete with toe tapping or fingers thrumming a tabletop. But when the wait was because a life was on the line, the only subconscious movements done by hand, fingers and feet, were created by intense worry. Or a body could have been completely still. During the duration of the waiting period, Slim did a little of both.

Now, his face was close to the window pane, the same one where his attention had been fully absorbed in however many days ago. It wasn't even two full days, but in that moment it felt as if an entire year had passed since the heavy rain producing thunderstorm turned the roads to mud and had wrecked the stage that had possibly permanently maimed his partner. Unlike the vibrant flashes of light that he'd previously viewed, there was nothing to see this time, as the blackness of the night met his vision with definite harshness.

The rain had quit some hours before, but the cloud cover remained, inking out any possible starlight from sending an encouraging sparkle in the sky. Mike had somehow drifted off to sleep, and with Daisy's skilled hands aiding Doctor Sweeney's operation, Slim was left alone, with nothing but silence, fear and darkness as his companion. Slim continued his gaze into the nothingness of the night, the darkest hour he'd ever endured. If there was light out there, Slim couldn't find it. The darkness was so intense, that Slim couldn't tell if dawn was even coming. Maybe it wouldn't, or perhaps it shouldn't, because if Jess didn't make it through surgery, or the other worst case scenario happened, Slim thought it would feel as if the sun would never rise again.

After too long staring into its emptiness, Slim turned away from the window. There was a pot of coffee sitting on the table that had long grown cold, but Slim filled a cup with it anyway. He held it in his hand for a lengthy time, but even though it was drawn to his lips a few times, he never took a sip. It wasn't the unappealing temperature or the more acrimonious scent that it boasted, but it was a shaky set of nerves that controlled his being, making him unable to perform one of the simplest of tasks as taking a mouthful of liquid and swallowing it. Maybe his subconscious mind knew what was best, for the tightness in Slim's throat might not have been able to succeed in downing whatever flavored brew met his mouth.

The pacing began again, step after step, stride after stride until the clopping of his boots on the floor made such a thunderous noise to his ears, he forced them to be still as to not replay the menacing thunderstorm in his head again that brought them all to this hour. But once they drew completely silent, the oppression in the air was so thick that he could hardly stand the stillness. Slim renewed the pacing, only this time, he kept his feet as soft as if he'd walked into a room where a newborn babe slept.

Slim rapidly sucked in the air when the bedroom door came open. Daisy came first, her attempt at blotting the tears from her eyes before she emerged proved futile as more soon trickled down her face. She took a few steps into the room and folded her hands together, prolonging the wait as what was to be announced was, in this case, the doctor's duty to proclaim. Slim felt the quiver in his knees, and realizing that his legs couldn't support him much longer, dropped his backside onto the couch before the floor abruptly met him. It was only then that he realized he needed to let the held in air back out. Then Doctor Sweeney exited the bedroom, and a sharp intake of air came in again. This time, out of necessity, Slim continued to breathe in and out.

The doctor didn't begin this time with a sigh, but the pause that he gave was as difficult to endure as the other had been. It only lasted four, maybe five seconds, but in that brief time a thousand fearful thoughts and a similar amount of images crashed through Slim's head. He saw Jess hanging on for dear life on top of a wild bronc with a mean streak bigger than the blaze across its face and then he saw Jess sitting in a wheelchair. He saw Jess racing across the yard to be the first to the door when the dinner bell was clanging and then he saw Jess lying still in bed. He saw Jess standing in his perfected solid stance, ready to draw, aim and fire, and then he saw Jess leaning against a crutch, no gun on his hip at all. Closing his eyes might have stopped the series of mind-created scenes, but it only brought a return of the desolate darkness that resided just outside the door. Perhaps, that cold, dark exterior was about to grow inside his heart.

"Is Mike in bed?" Doctor Sweeney's question brought a nod to Slim's head, and an even quickening pace of his pulse. "Good. It's probably best that the boy doesn't hear what I have to say."

Did Slim even want to hear what the doctor had to say? No, but he had to. Slim turned his head in Daisy's direction, but only more tears streamed down her face, and that could have meant anything. Turning his eyes away from Daisy, with another slight nod in Doctor Sweeney's direction, he gave the physician permission to begin. Not ready for the blow that would come, Slim folded his hands together and dropped his head when Doctor Sweeney retold what had happened behind the closed bedroom door.

Slim listened, but in a sense, he heard nothing. There were words and phrases that he didn't understand as the doctor described the procedure and what would follow, but even without full knowledge, full fright was there, giving the way for nausea to kick in. Doctor Sweeney didn't stay for too long on the path where dialogue didn't make much sense, but when he switched to words that Slim did know, when they came together with all of the rest, could neither create a wave of grief or a wobbly smile. Jess was alive, that was about as far as Slim wanted the news to go, but it went much, much further, into territory that Slim would have never wanted to have taken. The doctor's finishing line of "I don't know" finally brought Slim's head up, and even though several questions swirled in Slim's mind, he couldn't bring a single one of them to his lips.

"Doctor," Daisy's quiet voice somehow cut through the heaviness of the room, opening Slim's ears to finally hear the first real sentence spoken in awhile in its complete form, "you've had a very long night. Would you like a cup of coffee? It won't take long to reheat."

"Thank you, Daisy," Doctor Sweeney sighed, turning his eyes back to the bedroom door. "Just a small cup will do. I don't want to leave him for too long. No one in Jess' condition should awaken alone."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Awaking from the deepest part of slumber, where the line between darkness and eternity was so thin that only those that hovered over it understood its narrow span, a low moan escaped through Jess' slightly open mouth. It took time to take that extra step, as the tight hold of unconsciousness didn't want to be fully released from Jess' body. He tried to open his eyes, but the only thing that was produced through his lashes was a blurred image of a bedroom, and if it hadn't been the familiarity of being his own, he wouldn't have known where he laid.

He wanted to raise his head, but there was such an intense heaviness around his temples that he couldn't do more than move it slightly back and forth. Jess settled on a far right position, as this was the opposite part of the room where a lamp glowed, for the light, even though not at its brightest, created more difficulty in keeping his eyes opened. Darkness was better. And darkness was what he latched onto. The curtain at the bedroom window wasn't drawn, and as his repeated blinks became less rapid in succession, Jess' awareness as his eyes became fully opened became deeper the more he looked into what was beyond that window. He saw nothing.

Jess had no knowledge of time. The darkness told him it was night, but which night, he couldn't fathom. For some reason, the outdoors appeared blacker than normal. Perhaps there was a storm, but no flashes of menacing lightning interrupted the inky view. Whatever was the cause, whether just past midnight or right before the sun would rise, it was truly the darkest hour. His darkest hour. Jess knew something had happened to him, knew that something was wrong, but it was as if something inside of him was protecting him from knowing exactly what it was, as the most recent memories refused to surface to his mind.

With a deep breath in his lungs, Jess slowly turned back to the lamp. It didn't bother his eyes as much to look at its glow, and after a few longer than normal seconds of having them closed in a necessary blink, his focus became clearer. First, Jess saw the empty bunk of his partner, but there wasn't any understanding why Slim would have been absent. Second, Jess saw his gun belt, tossed aside as if done so in a hurry, but why it was on the floor and not on its usual peg, he couldn't figure out. And then, Jess saw a doctor's bag, and not just having the contents enclosed inside of it, but several tools were lying on the table nearby. Jess attempted to raise his head once more, this time, gaining a few inches as he did so, and saw a basin filled with bloody water and a stack of bandages, more bandages than he'd ever seen before. Was he hurt?

Jess' head dropped back to the pillow and an arm wanted to be raised to his head. This took less doing than bringing his head up had, but first he had to pull it out from underneath a layer of blankets. He certainly was covered tight, but he couldn't understand why. Maybe he'd been cold. After all, he'd already figured out it was the darkest part of the night, maybe it was the coldest, too. Getting the arm out, he laid his palm against his forehead that was dotted with sweat. Strange, Jess wiped the moisture and looked at the dampness that streaked across his hand, because he wasn't hot. Was he sick?

Jess turned his head back toward Slim's bunk and rubbed his hand back and forth over his chin. Where was Slim, anyway? He closed his eyes tight, trying to remember the last time he saw Slim, suddenly concerned the doctor's visit had been for his partner instead of him. They'd been working together. He saw tools in both of their hands, but when had that been? Was that a broken wheel off to the side? The rubbing became harder as his fingers pushed upward to his temple. What was the brown stuff all over Slim? Mud? It had to have been, and Jess was laughing because of it. But how did he get so dirty? Was he on the ground? No. It wasn't Slim on the ground. Jess was on the ground. He could see Slim clearly again, this time only wet, not dirty, and the look on his face was that of horror.

Suddenly the memories flooded back as if he'd been doused with one of the buckets of water that had been in his hand earlier. He remembered everything, the storm, the mud, the wreckage, and the stagecoach, Slim taking Daisy to Frankie's, all the way to his body lying underneath its frame alone, replacing parts, hammering each piece into its perfected position. And then there was the worst part of all. The stage falling on him, the agonizing pain, the blood and his leg. His leg! The reason for the bloody basin and the bandages on the table next to the doctor's bag accelerated his pulse, as close to being in the state of panic as he'd ever been.

He'd had surgery. That finally explained the immense grogginess that overpowered his brain before the murkiness lifted. But how severe? Jess looked down to where his lower body lay immobile. Due to the layering of the blankets upon him, he couldn't see the outline of either leg, and the sweat droplets increased, coursing down his cheeks in a cold, steady stream. His leg! Daisy had been gentle, but the pain in her eyes and the pain in his leg had told him the truth. But had it really happened? His eyes couldn't help but return to the table where the doctor's equipment still lay out in the open, his inexperience to the medical field made him unable to discern which tool meant what, but each one was like a menacing jab to his leg. Except, there wasn't any pain.

There was no pain! Before, when the blood formed a puddle all around him, he'd suffered the worst pain he'd ever experienced in his life. And he'd felt every kind of pain a body could possibly handle before. From gunshots and stab wounds, to the inner core of pain where no man could touch, right in his emotion fueled heart. And now there was no pain. Jess took his hand and slid it down his right leg, all the way to the knee. He felt it. Both the touch from his hand and in his leg. But where was the left?

He felt nothing. Nothing! No! _No!_ He said it so many times in his head, with more intensity pumping the negative word forward that it finally was spoken aloud, softly at first, increasing in volume the more he repeated it until the final time came with a shout that could have shaken the entire room. "No!"


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Jess!" Daisy was first through the bedroom door, her hands outstretched in front of her, reaching out to still Jess' trembling shoulders from rising too far out of the bed. "You must lie still!"

"Daisy," Jess' voice was a combination of strangled fear and bitterness as he clutched Daisy's arms that were holding him back. "Why? I asked you, no, I begged you. Why?"

"Easy, Jess," Daisy tried to keep her voice calm as she eased Jess' upper frame back to the level of his bed and then she sat down beside him. Jess' eyes were no longer masked in a hue of pain, but had come alive with vivid sparks of blue aimed directly at her, like lightning somehow could erupt in the middle of a cloudless sky.

Jess' gaze quickly shifted from Daisy to Doctor Sweeney and Slim as his focus became more aware of the added two presences in the room. He lifted his eyes and searched the somewhat puzzled expression on the doctor's face, but the one that was shown on Slim's face matched the same horror that he'd last visualized while he lay helpless underneath the stagecoach. The anger in his veins only intensified. If Slim was going to look at him like that because he was now maimed for life, he'd give the tall and completely sound rancher a piece of his fist. Multiple times.

"Doc," Jess' voice oozed in hostility, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two men that hovered over his bedside, "how could you do it? Slim, how could you let him? Didn't you think what it'd do to me?"

"Calm down, Jess," Daisy released her hands from his shoulders and began to softly stroke his cheek which felt so tense it was as if she was touching stone. "It's not as you fear."

"Really?" Jess turned his vibrant sparks back upon Daisy's tear streaked face. Seeing new ones glimmer in her lashes was if some of the fire inside of him was stamped out. But not enough. Smoldering ashes could still deliver heat and smoke. "What makes you think I'm scared? I thought the correct feeling was dad-blamed madder than a caged cougar. And ain't that what I now am?"

"Jess," Doctor Sweeney began, but wasn't allowed to go very far. "You need to know that I…"

"Don't talk to me, Doc," Jess balled both of his hands into fists. "Maybe you better just get out."

"Jess…" Slim's voice was firm, but even he couldn't proceed.

"You too, Slim," it was spoken through gritted teeth, and it made the only woman in the room rise.

"Jess Harper," Daisy's voice could have broken glass, but it was only meant to break through a stubborn resolve. And it did. "You calm yourself right down and listen."

"To what?" Jess knew he would crumble under Daisy's mothering stance, so to keep the hot emotion pumping through his blood a little longer he kept his eyes cast to the floor. "You gonna tell me how strong I am and how I can overcome this?"

"Not at all," Daisy stepped to the foot of the bed and tossed back the blankets, completely uncovering his lower portion, of whatever might have remained down there. "But I know that you will. And you will know so too, if you'll just look at your leg."

"No."

"Look at your leg."

"No!"

"Please, Jess. Look!"

His eyes slowly came up, finding Daisy first. She had spoken to him firmly, but not like the way a hammer hit nails into a board. Somehow, she'd spoken to him with a tender touch at the same time, and as the blue sparks diminished back to fear, she gave him a slight nod, and even though a tear still found its way down her cheek, her lips came into a smile. It was then that Jess found the courage to look at his leg. Both of them. Because there were still two of them there.

"How?" It was brought forth as a whisper and his hand reached out to touch it, but before his fingers reached the bandaging, he pulled them slowly back. "I feel nothing."

"I put quite a bit of morphine into you," Doctor Sweeney responded. "You're not supposed to feel anything. But that's only for the time being. Since I don't want you becoming dependent on that stuff, the pain will come back and you're going to be downright miserable. Right now I need you to stay as immobile as possible."

"I'll try not to complain, Doc," Jess said, his hand finally able to touch the limb he'd feared was gone, "just as long as I got a leg to pain me."

"We'll see if you change your mind in a day or two," Doctor Sweeney said with a nod, and there was something in his tone that caught Jess' attention.

"Why do I get the feeling that there's more you ain't telling me?"

"I was getting to it," Doctor Sweeney answered, reaching for Jess' pulse, he could feel it quicken underneath his fingertips. "I know you'd rather hear the whole truth than just a portion of it. If I get too blunt, I apologize. You see, Jess, once I surgically opened up your wound, despite the bad break of the bone, I made the decision to try to save your leg. Not too many years ago the only alternative was to amputate, but this isn't the drastic conditions of war anymore. But it's still a serious injury. Grave, might be a better word. I did everything within my knowledge and capabilities to mend the significant damage that was done to your entire leg. It might take a day or two, maybe longer, to know if it was a success."

"Meaning I still could lose it." The voice that had held tight to angry strength a few minutes before was now down to utter despair.

"Literally, no," the declining motion of the doctor's head was brief, "but its physical ability, possibly. There still are some questions that I won't have answers to just yet until I see how you progress. It all depends on how much damage was done to the nerves whether you'll be able to regain full or, forgive me Jess, but I have to say it, only partial use."

The unknown possibilities struck each person in the room in a different manner, hitting Jess in the chest the hardest. Slim had just been told a similar outline of details from the doctor, but now that it was being described to Jess, the truth was all too clear. He strengthened his backbone as his promise to stand by Jess' side no matter what repeated in his mind. To seal Slim's internal vow, he put a supporting hand on Jess' shoulder, knowing full well that the touch was felt, even though Jess never acknowledged it being there. Daisy quietly cried, still very aware of the suffering that Jess could still be facing. She'd held his chloroform stilled body as she assisted the doctor during the operation, trying to brace herself for the worst to come, but even though the amputating kit was never used, Daisy knew the long term struggle could wind up being the same.

Jess let his head fall back into the pillow, the exhaustion in his body battling with the immense turmoil of being crippled for life. Daisy was right that he was strong, but he hadn't yet faced a situation such as this. Maybe he would finally discover how weak he could really be. Jess' gaze returned to the window, where the blackest of night had first greeted him. There was finally light in the sky, taking away the deepest darkness. Even though Jess knew that earthly time would turn it back once the sun finished its daily course, he couldn't help but wonder what his next hour would hold. Light or dark?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Doctor Sweeney had been right about one thing, anyway. The pain. Jess awoke after only being asleep for less than thirty minutes, following a night of intermittent sleep that was consistently broken with waves of pain. He turned his head to the window, and although he couldn't see the action going on outdoors do to his low angle from bed, Jess knew by sound alone that the morning's westbound stage had arrived. Despite the raging pain that was only partially relieved in small doses of medicine, Jess wished he could have been out there alongside Slim, handling the team, even when the lead horse was acting up as it sounded like now. But he was stuck in bed and would remain that way, for after two days, there wasn't any indication that he'd be able to get out of it any time soon. Once the horse quieted down, Jess closed his eyes and pictured in his mind each step that was being accomplished on the other side of the wall, and then let out a gentle sigh as the call of "goodbye" from Duggan reached his ears and the stage began to roll again.

Silence hadn't taken over for long when the front door came open and a familiar stride came his way. Slim poked his head through the door, looking to see if Jess was awake and when he saw that Jess wasn't caught up in another bout of fitful sleep, he leaned a little farther inside. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"No."

"Good," Slim replied, fully stepping into the room. "I thought you'd like to have some company other than Doc Sweeney and his stethoscope checking up on you."

"Thanks," Jess said quietly when his partner sat down on the bunk next to his.

"How are you doing, Pard?"

"I dunno."

"Does it hurt much?"

"Only like I'm being burned with fire, stabbed with knives and stomped on by the orneriest horse in the bunch, over and over again. Other than that, nothing."

"I'm sorry, Jess," Slim said, unable to keep his voice from revealing the true sorrow in his heart. He knew the meaning behind Jess' "nothing", for the pain hadn't yet traveled below the surgery site.

"Slim," Jess began a question that had been on his mind since Doctor Sweeney first explained the potential that he'd never fully recover, but hadn't yet been spoken aloud. He kept the question suspended in the air for a few moments, the time spent in silence a necessity as the thoughts that were about to be turned into reality would have brought a quiver to his lips if he hadn't taken the extra seconds to steady his breathing first. "What're you gonna do if I can't do my job anymore?"

"We'll talk about that once we know for sure…"

"Slim," the firmness in Jess' voice brought Slim's eyes to collide with Jess'. "What we know is right in front of us. I can't feel my lower leg or my foot. The time to talk about it is right now."

"Maybe," Slim said softly. "But it's only been two days."

"Two days, two weeks," Jess shrugged, but kept a hand balled up next to his side, "might just be the same then as now. So what're you gonna do if I never get back on two feet?"

"I'll manage somehow," Slim answered softly. In truth, he had tossed the question around in his mind multiple times since the accident, but he'd never settled on an answer. He didn't want to.

"You'll have to find someone to replace me," the admission brought a new pain inside of Jess, this time it was in his core, and he had to quickly look down at the floor to avoid having the feeling race too far upward, lest it make a sound and catch in his throat.

"Replace you?" Slim rose slightly from his bunk, leaning closer in Jess' direction. "Pard, no one can replace you and no one ever will."

"But Slim," Jess shook his head back and forth as he stared at toes that wouldn't move, "my leg ain't whole."

"We're partner's Jess," Slim reached out and placed his hand on Jess' shoulder. "That isn't something that's going to change just because you can't work anymore. Your leg might be damaged, but our friendship is still sound."

"I'm thankful for that, Slim," Jess slowly brought his blue eyes up to Slim's face and saw the same spark of determination that he'd seen time and time again in his own reflective gaze, "more than I can say. There's no truer friend than you. But Slim, we worked this ranch together. How can we remain ranch partners if I'll be completely useless?"

"You'll never be useless, Jess," Slim responded quickly.

"But what good will I be if I never regain use of this leg?" Jess thumped his hand on his kneecap, wishing he would have felt the slap, but it felt as lifeless as a fencepost.

"You're just as much a part of this ranch as I am. It's in your blood, Jess, and your blood is in this land. Sure, our roles might have to change, but as long as you're still breathing and have some form of ability inside of you, you're going to be useful to me here, even if it's just calling out the orders. I'm not willing to let you go, and this ranch will never let you go, either."

"I reckon you're right, Slim," Jess spoke quietly, "but lying here in bed like this, it's kinda hard to believe I'm ever gonna get outta it."

"We'll just keep believing that you will," Slim rose to his feet, his voice displaying the sincerity that was in his heart. "But whatever happens tomorrow, next week and beyond, we'll take it as it comes, together. Like always."

"Thanks, Slim," Jess answered with a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

"Well, Pard," Slim looked to the window, hesitant to mention the workload that was before him, but knowing that it would sound worse if he wasn't truthful at all, Slim gestured toward the outdoors. "I've got to get back out there. Holler if you need anything."

"Sure," Jess barely nodded as Slim exited and it was only a mere four seconds later when his head was turned to the door again when Daisy breezed through.

"How're you feeling, Dear?" Daisy asked as she placed her palm against his cheek, grateful that fever was staying far away.

"It ain't too bad." Jess didn't like lying to her, but he also didn't like the shadows that formed around her eyes every time he was truthful in relaying how he felt. Doctor Sweeney's instruction to back off on the pain medicine hadn't met with opposition on Jess' part as he'd seen on more than one occasion the effects of an addicted man, but in between the doses, there were times the pain was so severe he wanted to climb the walls. That is, if his leg would have allowed him to. Right then was one of those times.

Daisy didn't respond out loud as she continued to trail her fingers down his smooth jaw line that she'd shaved when he'd first awakened that morning. She knew without him saying so that his "ain't too bad" wasn't the truth. It was evident in Jess' eyes, the way his jaw was clenched tight underneath her fingertips, the way his hands opened and closed, but it was also in his voice that pain, and still a significant amount of fear, had a tight hold on his entire body. She released an inaudible sigh as she gave a pale cheek a gentle pat and then stepped to the foot of the bed.

"Is it that time again?" Jess asked, trying not to wince as he looked up at Daisy's position.

"Yes," Daisy nodded, picking up his left leg in her hands, "but I won't go at it for very long this time."

From the time his surgery had been a few hours old, Daisy had started working on him morning, noon and night, massaging his lower limb in an attempt to regain his circulation. Every time he viewed her doing so, it appeared as if he was watching her rub someone else's leg and not his own. Not wanting to hurt Daisy's feelings, Jess didn't tell her that he didn't think it was doing any good, as her actions only caused more pain in the part of his leg that he could feel, in his upper thigh all the way to his backside. As Daisy's fingers pressed and probed, Jess kept his teeth stuck to his bottom lip, trying to envision that he was being rocked by an out-of-control bronc, but in this case, he couldn't jump off or be bucked off. Finally sensing by the reduction of pain in his thigh that Daisy was finishing with his toes, a maneuver that would have normally sent him into hysterics by the way it would have tickled if he could feel it, he released a full breath through his mouth.

"Jess, you didn't have any breakfast this morning," Daisy said as she returned his foot to the bed and covered the blankets back over the top of it. "Won't you please try some broth?"

"I dunno, Daisy," Jess put a hand to his middle. "It's kinda hard to think about food right now."

"Just a little bit?" Daisy prodded, adding a warm smile to the offer. She understood his lack of an appetite, for pain easily destroyed a man's normal want for food, but Daisy also knew that he needed strength, and the only way she could provide some of that source was from the kitchen.

"Just a little bit," Jess finally nodded. If it would please her, he'd do it.

"Good," Daisy's smile increased. "I'll be only a moment."

"I'll still be here." The moment was closer to a minute. Jess counted each second, not in anticipation, but just to help keep his mind on something other than his leg, if only lasting for sixty seconds.

"Here you are, Jess," Daisy sat down beside him and tucked a napkin close to his neck. "It's fresh, not too hot, and just what Nurse Cooper ordered for her favorite patient."

"Me?" Jess asked, swallowing, the taste of the chicken broth neither repulsing him nor making him desire for more. Daisy brought another to his mouth anyway and he dutifully took it in his mouth. "Your favorite patient?"

"Of course," Daisy smiled, dabbing the corner of his mouth with the napkin.

"I ain't exactly what I'd call the best patient," Jess raised both brows, wondering if he needed to start expounding on his statement. He'd only been in his condition a couple of days, yet he could already start a lengthy poor patient list, with bouts of angry frustration right at the top.

"Oh, Jess," Daisy let out a light laugh. "I didn't say 'best', I said 'favorite'. Besides, considering all that you've been through, you aren't acting terribly and you know as a nurse, I've seen some of the worst patients that have ever been sick. Don't you fret if you feel a little irritated, because I understand, and no matter what, it's a pleasure to take care of you."

"It doesn't bother you that I'm…" Jess turned his mouth away from the spoon, unable to take another sip as he battled with the words. "…I'm crippled?"

"Why would it? Besides, you're not a cripple yet. What matters most to me right now is that you're still alive, Jess," Daisy said as she brought the spoon back to his mouth. "I've been thanking God for that on my every breath."

"Did I really come that close to dying?" Jess asked, not taking the entire spoonful.

"I guess only the Good Lord knows that detail," Daisy answered, filling the spoon once more, "but from my experiences, I'd say you could have died easily on more than one occasion. While you were under the stagecoach you certainly could have died, waiting for Doctor Sweeney's arrival, and then also during your surgery. You have incredible endurance, Jess."

Did he really have the willpower and strength that Daisy had been reminding him about since the beginning of his accident? There in bed, he didn't feel as if either existed anymore. Usually when he was injured, from a gunshot or another physical ailment, he could bring himself back on his feet, the natural strength that flowed inside of him aiding in his healing. But now, he couldn't rise up at all. And he didn't know if he ever could again. Healing from his internal strength might have gone as barren as his leg felt.

"No more, Daisy," Jess held his hand up to stop the spoonfuls of broth from coming to his lips.

"All right, Jess," Daisy let the spoon slip back into the golden liquid, even though she wished that he would take more in. It was difficult to view the man that normally could polish off an entire table full of food only be able to down a small portion that would have barely fit into a teacup. She stood up, carrying the bowl with her and then she paused in the doorway. "Maybe we can try again later."

"Wait, Daisy, don't go," Jess said so earnestly that she almost dropped the bowl of broth from her hands.

"What is it Jess?" Daisy asked, setting the bowl down, she quickly returned to his side.

"My foot's got a doggoned itch that you wouldn't believe," Jess pointed down at his right foot as he wiggled it back and forth under the blanket. "I don't wanna be a bother, but would you mind?"

"You know you're no bother, Jess," Daisy pulled the blankets back, revealing more than just his healthy leg and foot, but his useless one as well. "I'll give that foot of yours a good scratching. Tell me if I get too rough." She picked the foot up in her hands and began a circular motion starting in the center of the foot and then down to the heel, all the way up to the toes.

"It ain't helping Daisy," Jess shook his head back and forth. "In fact, it's getting worse."

"I'm sorry, Jess," Daisy slightly frowned, increasing the movement on Jess' foot. "I don't understand why this isn't helping. Sometimes the itch is so deep that even scratching it doesn't help. Tell me if…" Daisy not only paused her voice, but her hands grew still as well, for something twitched on the bed. "Jess, are you sure it's this foot that itches?"

"How can it not be?" Jess answered, feeling agitated as the odd sensation continued to increase. "It's the only dad-gummed foot that I can feel."

"Maybe not," Daisy's voice drew to a whisper as she set the right foot back onto the bed and picked up the left one. She kept her eyes riveted to the toes that she was positive that she'd seen move as she began the same method that she'd tried with the right to relieve Jess' itch. "Do you feel anything?"

"Ow, Daisy," Jess said sharply as the foot in Daisy's hand more than twitched, but jerked, attempting to pull free from Daisy's intense rubbing.

"Jess," Daisy began slowly, her eyes brimming with tears until she could barely see Jess' puzzled expression. She wiped her tears with her sleeve, but a few trickled down until they dripped free from her face and landed on noticeably pinker toes. "Do you realize what's happening?"

"Yeah," Jess deepened his frown as he bit back a gasp of pain. He already was enduring enough pain to knock a person into delirium, and Daisy was making it worse. "You're making my foot hurt like crazy."

"Yes," Daisy could contain her grin no longer as she patted the top of Jess' left foot and then ran a hand around his ankle bone, "but which one?"

"It's…" Jess sat up straight, watching as Daisy held up his left foot in her hands. It hurt. He reached his own two hands down to where the bandages ended at his knee and gripped his leg, squeezing tighter the farther he slid them toward his foot until his hands clasped around is ankle, the tingling underneath rapidly responding to his touch. He looked through damp lashes at Daisy as she wiggled each of his toes back and forth. He felt each and every one of them. "Daisy! I can feel my leg! My foot, my toes, everything!"

"Oh, Jess," Daisy released Jess' foot at the same moment that Jess' hands came off of his ankle, their hands coming together as Daisy seated herself on the edge of Jess' bed. She felt the beginning of a joyful weeping tugging at her heart and her throat and instead of trying to shut it off, she let the sobs overtake her. Jess pulled his hands free from Daisy's tight clasp and pulled her against his shoulder, letting the woman that was so dear to his heart weep the overwhelming burden of the past few days away.

"It's all right, Daisy," it was now Jess' turn to speak with the soothing tone, giving comfort where it was needed, as it had been so lovingly given to him. All of the fear fueled emotions that had been clutching him since the beginning of his injury finally fell apart as the strength that resided all along in his body finally surfaced. He gently rubbed Daisy's back as his head tucked closer to her neck and then with strength in a whisper in Daisy's ear he added, "I'm gonna be all right."

"Yes," Daisy brought her head up and nodded when her sobs were reduced to a few trickling tears. She smiled as Jess wiped the moisture off of her cheek with his thumb and then reached for her hankie to finish the job. "Tell me, how does it feel?"

"It hurts like I'm standing in a campfire, but dad-gum, I never had something hurt feel so blamed good!" The excitement in Jess' voice was like a child's would have been on a snowy white Christmas morning. "Where's Slim?"

"He's out chopping wood," Daisy answered, still dabbing at her eyes. "Do you want me to get him?"

"No, that ain't too far away," Jess leaned his head toward the open bedroom door, "I reckon he'll be able to hear me shout." Considering the exuberance he brought forth, someone in the next county might have been able to hear him, too. "Slim! Hey, Slim! Get in here, Slim!"

"What's wrong?" The worry-toned question beat Slim through the front door.

"Come find out for yourself," Jess called less loudly, but still as excitedly as Slim hurried into the room. "Take a look at that."

"You can feel your leg?" Slim asked, watching as even though Jess winced as he did so, he wiggled his toes, raising his foot an inch off of the bed. "You can move your leg?"

"You bet. And I'm gonna ride and walk again and get back to outworking you from sunup to sundown, too. You just wait and see."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Three Weeks Later…

Jess' proclamation didn't come as soon as he would have liked. He had remained in bed for ten full days, and only then he'd escaped his blanketed confines in secrecy, for Daisy had insisted the length be closer to a two week time frame. Jess could still hear Daisy's alarmed cry when she found him standing in the bedroom doorway, but no amount of her pleading, or the added pain that being upright produced, could take him back to bed. The restored feeling in his leg meant that he could stand and walk, if the shuffled limp that brought him out of bed could have been called a walk, however the pain was no longer isolated to his upper leg, but from his hip on down to his littlest toe. But no matter how much the leg ached, there was a better feeling radiating throughout his entire body for no longer being stuck on his back.

Jess' stubborn determination delivered a perfectly carved crutch from Slim's hand, and although it could aid him in traveling from room to room, and go all the way to the barn when no one was looking, there were still areas where he needed assistance. One of his biggest challenges was just putting his legs inside of his pants to pull them up. At first the flesh above his knee all the way up to his hip had been so swollen that he couldn't fit into his preferred snug fitting jeans. Daisy had to immediately go to work with needle and thread as Jess refused to only wear oversized long johns. He'd felt it a small victory when his regular jeans finally slid past his rump without too much of a tight squeeze.

Each day that Jess progressed ticked off another victory. Some seemed insignificant and small, like today's being the first time he'd stamped both feet down into his boots without any help. But today also had another first to be marked down, this one categorized as more momentous, for Jess was home alone. Right after breakfast, Slim took Daisy and Mike over to see a neighbor's new baby, which gave him the freedom to move about the house and the surrounding area outdoors without being scrutinized by at least one set of watchful eyes.

Jess had spent the first hour of his alone time outside, surveying everything from the front porch, to the shower stalls, the barn, corral and back again. There was a simple contentment in being able to move about on his own, yet in some way, Jess was still being watched over. Before Daisy had left, she'd fretted so much that she had put whatever she thought he might have needed within close reach, including a plate full of food and a fresh pot of coffee on the stove. Returning to the house, Jess filled a cup and then sat at the table, slowly sipping the hot liquid down his throat.

Stretching his leg out, Jess sighed gently as he put a hand on the surgery site. The crutch, the morning stiffness, the ongoing ache, and his limited mobility all were evidence of what he'd endured. But perhaps what showed it the most was his scars. The bandages had finally been removed a week earlier, revealing an ugly set of marks that Doctor Sweeney said might not ever fade away. Carrying them didn't really bother Jess, for they weren't the first permanent scars that were ever etched into his frame, and having them was a stark reminder of what he'd almost lost. He still had his leg. It moved, it functioned, it did almost everything that he told it to do, or what Slim and Daisy allowed him to do, and he knew with more time it would only grow stronger.

Jess set the cup of coffee back down to the table as his head turned toward the door, listening to the sound of a stagecoach rolling in. He glanced at the clock and shrugged, as there wasn't an eastbound coach scheduled to arrive until the afternoon. Slim wasn't due back for another hour or so, and that all depended on Daisy's touch upon Baby Pruitt. He picked up his crutch and made his way outside, growing a smile when Mose led the team to a stop.

"Howdy Mose," Jess leaned on his crutch as Mose stepped down from the coach. "You're early."

"Either that or I'm a day late," Mose rubbed his handkerchief over his face. "Just when you get used to it being cool and wet, it turns hotter and dryer than a burnt biscuit. Where's Slim?"

"He took Daisy on over to see Mrs. Pruitt's new baby."

"The one with the single lock of red hair sticking straight up?" Mose accentuated his question with a point to the top of his head.

"That's the one."

"Darn cute little thing, but from what I hear, she never stops wailing."

"That's why Daisy's headed over there," Jess nodded as he rested a hand on the lead horse's back. "Says she knows exactly what to do."

"I don't doubt that," Mose said with wink. "Good woman, that Daisy is, and not only that, but she puts up with all your caterwauling that a baby ain't gonna be too difficult to handle."

"Very funny, Mose," Jess responded dryly, although a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Well, since Burch insists that I don't need a shotgun man when all I'm carrying is mail and no passengers," Mose said while looking over his shoulder at the team that needed switching out, "and Slim's off cooing at babies, then I reckon I better get to the team switching myself."

"I'll help, Mose," Jess answered quickly, leaning into his crutch as he started hobbling toward the corral.

"Can you?"

"Of course," Jess said, fully aware that it came out as a bark, but Mose knew that it wasn't backed with much bite.

Surprisingly, if someone had been timing the switching of teams, comparing Jess and Mose's current work with one under completely normal conditions, there wouldn't have been much of a difference. Jess moved steadily with the aid of his crutch, keeping a continual conversation with Mose going as one team was led to the corral while the other was being hitched.

"I see there's another stage to fix," Mose nodded toward the immobile coach by the barn when all he had left to do was get back up in the driver's seat and take the reins in his hand. "What's the matter with it?"

"I dunno," Jess shrugged as he closed the corral gate. "Must've been brought in this morning, but Slim didn't tell me anything about it."

"More'n likely it's just Burch giving hisself a headache over a little scratch," Mose climbed to the top of the coach to his familiar seat. "And he'll give me one too if he finds out I'm dawdling, even if I am early today. I'll be seeing you, Jess. Take care of yourself."

Jess barely lifted his arm in a wave as Mose headed the team back onto the main road toward Laramie, his gaze solely attached to the broken stagecoach across the yard. If he was going to take a proper look at it, he couldn't do so with a long stick under his arm. Jess let the crutch fall to the ground, glad for an excuse as he had been eager to lose the thing anyway, even though Doctor Sweeney had instructed to use its aid for a month or more. Jess took his first step without assistance, the full weight on his foot sending a stab of pain all the way up to his hip, but through gritted teeth, he took another, and another, until he was completely in front of the stagecoach. With two hands on his hips, he looked it over, not noticing anything within his line of vision wrong. The wheels were sound, the brakes looked good, the tongue was in perfect shape, and all of the other parts from his level appeared normal. Whatever that needed mending must have been underneath.

Jess had been bucked off many wild horses, and even some mounts just on the friskier side of gentle, and he'd never balked at getting back on and trying again. Sure, there was pain in landing a backside smack hard into the ground, but it was never enough to stop him from getting back in the saddle. This job would be no different. The stage had come close to maiming him for the rest of his life, but it hadn't defeated him. The accident had hurt him, but moving around wasn't impossible anymore. Jess didn't have any reason to walk away from what was before him. A few minutes later, Jess was on his back, looking up to the undersides of the stagecoach.

"That ain't too bad," Jess said aloud, pulling a loose bolt from the axle. "Kinda bent, but not impossible."

He pulled himself out from underneath the coach, turning over the bolt in his hands, studying how it needed to be reshaped to fit properly. In a few minutes, the forge was glowing hot and with some stout hammering, the bolt was as it should have been again. Going back to the coach, Jess barely looked up to the top of the hill, seeing Slim guiding the buckboard toward the house without Daisy by his side. He figured that her absence meant Daisy wished to stay longer with the Pruitt baby, and Slim came home ahead of her to work. Jess gave a slight shrug, knowing that he could wait a short while longer and Slim could do the job on the coach himself, but there was a strange need inside of Jess' body that needed to be satisfied. Bouncing the reshaped bolt in his hand, Jess went back on the ground, and soon the stagecoach could have been considered as good as new.

Just after rounding the corner of the house, Slim pulled the team of horses to a halt, the smile that he'd been wearing moments before suddenly gone when he saw Jess' crutch lying in the middle of the yard, but Jess nowhere in sight. He jumped to the ground and picked up the crutch, a multitude of worrisome thoughts instantly crowding close inside of his mind. Slim fully suspected that his partner had been doing something he shouldn't have been somewhere outside or in the barn. But the reason the crutch was discarded seemed unnaturally alarming. Had something else equally as terrifying happened to Jess while he was away?

"Jess!" Slim shouted, the note of panic clearly evident by the catch in his throat as he started running for the barn.

"What's the matter?" Jess' voice called as he scooted himself out from underneath the stagecoach.

"Jess," Slim came to an abrupt stop and then once he found movement again, slowly walked in Jess' direction. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Fixing the stagecoach," Jess answered, using the coach's rear wheel to help pull him to his feet. "And I got it done, too. Nothing to it."

"Didn't you learn anything at all from nearly losing your leg?" Slim couldn't help but have his voice rise with agitation. Seeing Jess lying underneath the coach brought back the reminder of how close he actually was at not only just having a maimed partner, but not having a partner alive at all.

"I reckon I didn't," Jess shook his head, starting to walk toward the barn, "but it probably ain't gonna be the last time either."

"We both know you can be rather reckless," Slim kept the frown tight on his face. "You shouldn't always be out here taking risks."

"Aw, come on, Slim, I ain't that bad."

"Wanna bet?"

"Dad-gummed, Slim," Jess said with a low growl, "you got me so riled up that I forgot to limp."

"You forgot to what?" Slim asked, any anger that had been aroused quickly turned to joy as he watched Jess stomp to the barn as he returned the tools he'd used to their proper places.

"Huh?" Jess barely muttered as he stopped in his tracks, looking down at his normal posture. He then took a step, followed by eight or ten more, and yes, there was still pain, but it didn't hinder his stride. "Slim! Did you see that?"

"You bet I did," Slim hurried to Jess' position and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "And boy, Pard, I'm sure going to remember what you said."

"About what?"

"Oh, just something about outworking me from sunup to sundown."

"Well," Jess stepped forward, taking a wide look around at the ranch, knowing that there were several places where he could begin. "Let's get to it then!"

"All right," Slim nodded, a smile growing on his face that reached up to twinkle in his eyes. He reached both hands out and gave Jess a friendly shove. "Lead the way!"

"Hey," Jess turned sharply, trying not to laugh as he pointed at Slim, "watch it, Mr. Sherman, or you just might lose a partner."

"No, Jess," Slim's voice became a touch more serious, but the smile stayed genuine, "I'll never lose a partner like you."

Jess reached out a hand and gently clapped Slim on the back, and as he did so, Slim's eyelids drew closed. In that brief moment, he saw Jess sitting in a wheelchair, and then he saw Jess walking a fence line, loaded up with a myriad of tools so that the stock wouldn't wander. He saw Jess lying still in bed, and then he saw Jess running to be the first to jump into the lake on the hottest summer day. He saw Jess leaning against a crutch, and then he saw Jess standing whole, the strength that emanated from his body in his normal tough-guy stance as he was ready to take on the world. When Slim opened his eyes, the series of mind-created scenes ended, but there was no longer a dark image to return to. His partner really was whole, and they could take on the world together.

…

Author's notes: I researched for a full diagram of a stagecoach to learn the various parts of its undercarriage. I found only two with descriptions enough to help me, so using what I'd learned, my imagination, and from the episode "The Confederate Express" and how Slim and Jess were fixing the stagecoach, I created Jess' accident. If there are any errors in my description and titles of stage parts, they all belong to me.

Also, Jess' injury and his treatment came from reading at length on Civil War amputations. If my imagination was inaccurate, these errors, too, are mine.


End file.
